


Imminent Release

by Tim (boywonder)



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:46:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/Tim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scene is meant to be done mimicking a technique they used in the movie. I don't know that I've achieved it properly, but I enjoyed writing Holmes and his thought process. I'm not going to lie and pretend I didn't write this solely for the porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imminent Release

The door has been closed for less than an hour, and Holmes has been standing outside of it for just as long.

_Regular breathing, even intervals. Slowed._ He assesses the state of the room's occupant, standing motionless and timing his own breaths to match that of his companion, on the other side of the door. It might seem a bit like madness to anyone who might have observed this, but it isn't the first time he's stood here like this.

_No sounds. Deeper slumber, unmoving. Dreams, perhaps, though of what, I cannot yet say._

This is the third night in a row. It's been a week since he's had a case, and he's getting restless. He spends all day in his study, speaking to no one, allowing no one to come inside. He spends his nights running the bow along the strings, not playing any particular tune, but whatever he invents off the cuff. Or he spends them here, in needed silence, focusing on what lies on the other side of the door instead of the absence that slowly fills everything on _this_ side of the door without _work_.

Time passes again, and he feels the stillness come on. This is what he's been waiting for, the past three nights. He sees it all with stark clarity.

His mouth twitches.

\---

_Open the door. Close loud enough to be heard, lock quietly enough to not be heard. He'll wake, confused, not expecting it. He'll say my name, confused, puzzled. 'Holmes,' he'll say. Do not answer, do not justify his query with a response, or it will deteriorate._

He moves into the room, shutting the door audibly. In the reverberation of sound, the tiny click that the lock makes when he turns it is as nothing.

Watson's eyes open, but they are not adjusted to the darkness. He looks over, out of sorts.

"Holmes?"

_Cross to bed, sit on edge. He'll be sleeping on his back, but there will be room. Kiss him, silence him. Don't allow room for words or argument. He will sit up, reach out to deflect advances. Counter attempt._

Holmes closes the distance between the door and the bed as if there were no distance at all. He sat on the edge of the bed, and even as Watson sat up and opened his mouth to protest or to ask what was going on, he covered the doctor's mouth with his own.

_Capacity to speak temporarily neutralized. Lasting effect, less than one minute from end of kiss. Lean over him, keep weight in left hand. Use right hand to unbutton shirt. Move weight so no support is needed. Breathe only long enough to renew oral contact._

Holmes breaks away from the kiss almost abruptly. Watson's eyes haven't focused yet, and for a moment he is actually speechless at Holmes' presence _in his bedroom_, let alone the kiss itself. He opens his mouth to speak, and shuts it again, unable to find the suitable amount of outrage for this particular intrusion.

Holmes leaned over him, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. His fingers were deft, and the buttons were as nothing before them. Watson's nightshirt was open in record time, and Holmes was kissing him again before he could say more than the detective's name.

_Slide hands down, finding all sensitive areas on the way. Neglect nothing. Use left hand to unbutton trousers. Keep right hand at face level; he mustn't pull away. Capacity for speech quickly returning; capacity for denial growing by the instant. Neutralize capacity for denial using open trousers._

Holmes let his hands slide across Watson's chest. His skin is warm under the detective's hands. One hand brushes against a nipple, once, twice. Watson tenses under him, but doesn't pull away.

Holmes slides one hand up to Watson's face, almost as if there is something tender in the gesture. His hand brushes the doctor's cheek. The kiss is almost brutal, but Watson finds himself returning it anyway, vying with Holmes for control without conscious realization that that's what he is doing. Holmes' hand dips inside the doctor's trousers, and one of Watson's hands comes up and tangles in Holmes' hair.

_Hand tightens in hair; move with momentum. Counter witty banter with same. Offer no apology or explanation. Allow temporary loss of control when he stops talking and starts doing. Focus instead on eventual removal of clothing articles. Probability of denial at this stage: thirty-five percent._

Watson's fingers tightened in Holmes' hair, tangling it even further. He pulled, forcing Holmes back away from the kiss.

"What in God's name are you doing in my bedroom?" he asks, almost hissing the words. There is a distinct note of breathlessness that he tries valiantly to hide. Holmes notices it anyway. Of course he does; he _always_ notices.

"And here I thought every room in this house was owned by both of us. Hence, this is just as much my bedroom as it is your bedroom," Holmes says in return, with no hint of breathlessness. His mouth twitches, threatens to turn into a smirk. Watson refuses to accept that and kisses him again so he doesn't _have_ to accept it.

Holmes conceded control of the kiss to Watson. His hands moved away from the doctor's trousers and back up to his open shirt, pushing the fabric off the other man's shoulders.

_Discard shirt as far from bed as possible; remove temptation to retrieve it. Unbutton own shirt, allow access. Distract from further opening of trousers by placing his hand on skin. Continue concession of hand in hair. Provide mouth-to-skin contact; deny further kissing until proper level of certainty achieved._

Holmes managed to get Watson's shirt off, though there was a moment when Watson thought of refusing to let go of his hair. In the end, Holmes throws Watson's shirt halfway across the room and moves his hands up to his own shirt. He unbuttons it as quickly as he had previously unbuttoned Watson's shirt. With one hand, he pulls Watson toward him, guiding the other man's hand along the mid-line of his body, from chest to stomach. Watson needs no further guidance. His hand returns to where it was in Holmes' hair, but this time he pulls the detective _toward_ him instead of away from him.

The detective moves with the motion, but he kisses Watson's neck, not his mouth, and moves a trail along his shoulder, then back along his collarbone. Watson makes a noise in his throat before he forces himself back into silence. He doesn't seem to care how tight his hand is in Holmes' hair, though whether he keeps it there as an assurance or as a silent protest, even he is not sure.

Holmes' hand finds its way back to the doctor's trousers. It is easy enough to work them open the rest of the way open.

_Provide oral contact as immediately as possible; refuse all protest. Capacity for denial neutralized. Probability of reciprocation due to feeling of chivalry, high. Maximum pleasure imminent after initial release._

Holmes continues his kisses along Watson's skin, though what control he possesses over the action seems to be slipping. The kisses are hot, messy, _passionate_, everything that Holmes is running in a line down Watson's body.

Watson lets his hair go and allows it, because he's too hard now to deny it, and Holmes will insist anyway. It's damn near impossible to tell the man no once he gets going, and it's honestly not easy to want to, here in the darkness where no one can see anyway.

Watson's hand tightens in the sheet as Holmes' mouth envelops him, and he cries out soundlessly as the heat rushes through his body. It could be minutes or hours for all he knows or cares. There is nothing but Holmes and his accursed _mouth_, moving up and down and around him.

He moves to return the action as soon as he is able to do so, never seeing the smirk as Holmes wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

\---

The clarity dissolves, and the world loses its sharpness, but the wheels have already begun turning. Holmes turns and reaches for the doorknob. As he enters the room, he makes sure to shut the door hard enough to wake the room's sleeping occupant.


End file.
